


Non-Aggression Pact

by VenusInCancer



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Drinking, Erron Black is a sarcastic asshole, Erron is still semi-immortal, Erronjin, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kotal Kahn (mentioned), M/M, Pining, Post MKX, Sonya Blade (barely there), Why is alcohol use not a tag?, eventually mutual ErronJin?, not MK11 compliant, onesided ErronJin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 11:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20425094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenusInCancer/pseuds/VenusInCancer
Summary: ErronJin. The Kombat Kids are dispatched to Outworld with a proposal for an actual alliance between the two realms. Jin has self-esteem, abandonment, and commitment issues.  He also figures out how old Erron is, and contemplates defection, among other things.  Post MKX but not really MK11 compliant. Is MK11 even MK11 compliant, though?  Background Kombat Kids, very brief mentions of Jakeda, Erron is still semi-immortal because that's too cool to retcon, and I'm projecting feelings onto Jin.





	Non-Aggression Pact

**Author's Note:**

> Should be updating the WIP I started two months ago. Whoops. Have an ErronJin dumpster fire instead.  
Italics denote flashbacks, even though the scenes all take place very close together.  
The non-compliance warning is because I'm including characters that MK11 shafted and not acknowledging the events of 11 in any real regard. Elements like Erron Black's MK11 look and accent because DAMN, and Cassie and Jacqui's promotions are incorporated, but time fuckery and killing off characters is not.  
Bonus (relevant, swear) fact: Wickett, Texas became a town in 1927, if wiki is right. So, by Erron's original bio, he's older than his birthplace. I know it's sort of up in the air (or is it an official retcon???) whether or not he's still a semi-immortal dude. He always will be to me, because it's too cool a backstory to trash. But yeah, what's now Wickett was known as Arroyo/Aroyo before then and really wasn't anything until the railroad came through in the 1880s. This is what happens when you go down the rabbit hole for stupid shit fanfics. Carry on.

_Outworld hasn't changed, because Outworld doesn't want to. _

_The team's back together, and it's the first time they've really been a unit since Shinnok. Back together, and back where it all started. Cassie's commander now, Jacqui's a sergeant, she and Takeda are engaged, and Jin just knows this isn't gonna go well. It's just a couple of proposed changes to the terms of the alliance between Earthrealm and Outworld to be discussed with Kotal Kahn—no big._

_Except, just like Jin told everyone else their first time in Outworld, “It's not an alliance—”_

_Cassie reminds him that now, “Earthrealm wants it to be.”_

_Jin groans. “Then _Earthrealm's_ gonna be disappointed.”_

“_Do you speak for Earthrealm now, Jin?”_

_Jin's pretty sure she means to imply he shouldn't be speaking for Outworld, but just asks, “Isn't that why I'm here?”_

—_it's a non-aggression pact._

* * *

“Tell _Commander Cage_ I ain't no carrier pigeon.” It's heat and anger rolling off of Erron. But it's quick—the kind of pissed-off that fades as soon as it hits. Okay, maybe not that fast. As soon as he gets what he wants, though.

“Neither am I. Tell her yourself.” Jin shakes his head. He doesn't mean to sigh, because—well, _how fucking pathetic_, for one. It sort of just happens. “Besides, she's not my... _anything_.”

Erron echoes the sigh, like he gives a shit, and almost sounds consoling when he says, “You'll always be one of them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“To the wrong people, at least,” Erron elaborates. “Take it from someone who did a stint with the Black Dragon.”

“What?” The surprise is on Jin's face and it pisses him off that Erron got a reaction out of him. Not a reaction—_that_ reaction.

Erron's half-assing something meant to serve as both reassurance and an explanation, “It was before your time.”

“How the hell old are you, anyway?” Jin asks, and he knows he's looking way too closely at Erron. At least he has a reason to claim if he's called out for it, now.

If Erron has any problem with the ogling, he isn't letting on. Just muses, “Thought you knew_ all about me_.”

“What's there to know? You defected or _whatever_ to Outworld at some point. That's kinda the thing you're known around the water cooler for.”

“Really?” Erron seems almost surprised. Almost. “That's disappointing. Suppose it's for the best, though. Storied life and all.”

“What else is there?”

* * *

_Earthrealm is proposing a system for exchanging currency, or maybe just having _something_ recognized and accepted between both realms. As well as some semblance of a postal system. Something for getting word back and forth beyond 'our parents and cousin once helped save the world and this trinket from the Thunder God says we can be here'. Something maybe regular people can use. Something that would undoubtedly encourage interrealm communication, and subsequently, interrealm travel. _

_Like everyone isn't reflecting on how the Fantastic Four were about as far from regular, even during their last visit, and still ran into some shit. So, _that_ might've had a little bit to do with Jin storming a public execution to free a condemned man, mixing it up with the likes of Erron Black, and culminating in an attempt on Kotal Kahn himself. _

* * *

Erron's quarters are neat, but that might just be because they're barren as shit. He's holding a bottle of something dark amber, and kind of foggy, as he approaches Jin. He pops the stopper from the top and hands it over.

Then he warns, “Pace yourself, though. This ain't Earthrealm.”

Jin scoffs, “I haven't forgotten where I am.” The alcohol _does_ burn a little, but it goes down quickly enough that he can take it without reacting.

“You sure? Because that was a real stumbling block for you last time.”

Something suddenly occurs to Jin. “Are you riding herd on me?”

Erron instructs him, “Just drink.”

“Thought I was supposed to pace myself?” Jin taunts. He doesn't mean to sound like a fucking brat. It sort of just comes out that way.

“Do both.”

“So, how old _are_ you?”

Erron furrows his brow, contemplates a moment.

What the hell is there to think on? It's a pretty easy question.

Erron finally sort of answers, “Buck-eighty, give or take.”

Jin laughs, because did he just hear the man say he's 180 years old? He raises the bottle in an aimless mock toast. “Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it.”

Bet dermatologists hate Erron, except—

“Ain't doing anything. It's done. Been done for a long time.” He almost sounds serious.

Yeah, this has gotta be bullshit. Maybe it's a test to see how well Jin holds his booze. See what kind of dumb shit he'll fall for. Jin asks, “Okay, so where were you born?”

“Nowhere.”

Jin knows he's giving Erron a look. He hopes the message is clear: yeah, right.

“Didn't really have a name. Arroyo? Probably ain't called that anymore.” Erron sounds sort of like he's asking himself. He shrugs, and offers up, “Texas.”

That explains the accent, which Erron apparently hasn't shed over the course of nearly 200 years. Unless he keeps it on purpose. Which is possible, but only if this ridiculous shit is true. Well, fallen Elder Gods, and revenants, so, it probably is.

Damn.

* * *

_Earthrealm historians want permission to assist Outworld in preserving what little written record there is, with the stipulation that it be copied and digitized in Earthrealm. It also includes taking oral history from the local—make that surviving, and willing—tribes, and actually writing it down._

* * *

Jin's a little buzzed to be on a fact-finding mission, but he's not gonna let this go. He's too stubborn for it. Even if it wasn't smug, snarky, _weirdly sexy_ Erron Black, he'd be damn determined to get to the bottom of whatever this is. Except it feels like he's caught up in something never-ending.

A bottomless pit he feels like he's been falling down for longer than he can remember. It's been so long, finally hitting the ground would be a relief. Doesn't even care for the rot and decay of the failures he'd find all around him. Not like he'd last long enough to really think on it all, anyway.

It's the feeling of an endless freefall that's the worst.

Jin attempts to summarize, “So you did a _job_, for _Shang Tsung_, somewhere around _150 years ago_.” That part is an approximation, because normal humans don't have memories that old. “And he paid you by, what? Baptizing you in the fountain of youth?”

Erron suddenly looks entirely different to him, and yet, exactly the same. Same gun belt slung low on his hips. The hat, boots, spurs. The sleeveless shirt, the poncho, the rifle on his back—okay, so he ditched that when they came into his—shit. His bedroom?

He had to lower the bandanna to drink, and it was the first Jin's seen of the bottom half of his face. He's kept it down. And he couldn't have just been deformed or disfigured and make it easier, nope.

“That's a real nice way to sum it up,” Erron mocks, and there's something almost like a smile on his face to match the look in his eyes. “You should be the one taking notes when the Kahn relents and lets you all run amok here, listening to everyone's tall tales.”

Like he's one to go on about anyone else making shit up, on the cusp of _this._

Jin earnestly asks, “Is it accurate, though?”

“Pretty well, yeah.”

“So, what happens when the magic wears off?”

Erron shrugs. “Who the hell knows.”

“You mean you don't?” It's like pulling teeth with him. “Or _when_ it's gonna wear off?”

“Nope.”

There's something weird gnawing at Jin as he asks, “Why would you make a deal like that?” It's not panic, but it's a needling, nagging sort of feeling.

“Still probably gonna live longer than you.”

Jin groans. Erron's not wrong. He's apparently been older than Jin his entire life but is probably somehow gonna still be alive even after he's dead.

“Why the hell are you so interested in me, anyway?” Erron asks, and he doesn't seem anything but curious, either.

“Who says I'm interested?” Not the one who dragged another guy to his bedroom and started pouring on the booze in place of charm, okay. No, _Jin_ would be the guy who accepted that half-ass offer.

Erron just quirks an eyebrow.

Okay, so it's fucking obvious.

Jin attempts to shrug it off. Explain away his fascination as something besides infatuation. Lie that it's something more, at least. _Something less._ “Immortal gunslinger-slash-mercenary? That's like something off of a Saturday morning cartoon.”

“Cartoon?” Erron echoes. Doesn't sound pissed. Doesn't sound happy, either, though.

“You know what a cartoon is.”

“Yeah, but it's been a minute since I've actually seen one. See, we don't have any of them talking picture boxes here in Outworld.”

Jin hopes his groan covers the laughter. “Fuck off. You know an awful lot about Earthrealm—modern Earthrealm—considering you avoid it like the plague.”

“You can know about a thing and still not like it,” Erron reminds him. “Am I right? Ain't that why you're trying to figure me out?”

Exact opposite, but— “Bingo.”

* * *

_Kotal Kahn is skeptical of the proposal. It isn't just stubbornness, or showboating, either. It isn't on ceremony. He's not just upset that a handful of second-gen brats were the delegation sent to deliver a laundry list of terms that sure ask a lot of him and his people. Terms that, even if they don't technically leave his empire open to attack, do leave him just plain _open_. Jin understands why he's got reservations._

_It's a push for change, and in bucket loads._

_Kotal Kahn needs to think it over. He'll send word to Earthrealm when he's reached a decision._

* * *

“You ain't like your friends,” Erron says, suddenly, and with a certain seriousness. A certain introspection. It's a cross between bait and a compliment the way he explains, “You like it here.”

That's a stretch.

Only, it's really not. Outworld's both freer and more oppressed than Earthrealm. It isn't as claustrophobic, even if it is primitive as hell in a lot of regards.There's just something about it, though, that tugs at Jin. Pulls him in. It's otherworldly, foreboding, but sort of intoxicating, too.

Intoxicating, yeah.

Jin admits, “It's—it just seems like it's easier to get lost here. Be lost here. I guess. I don't know. Doesn't matter that no one's looking. I don't know.”

“You said 'I don't know' twice.”

“Meant it both times.”

“What makes you think nobody's looking?” Erron asks, and he's wearing that smirk again. Jin can't help wondering how often it's been there and he just hasn't been able to see it behind the bandanna.

But all he manages for a reply is a dumbfounded, “What?”

“What?” Erron echoes him, and it's a deflection if Jin's ever heard one.

“Who's looking?” Jin's trying to sound smug, and aiming for anything the right side of desperate.

“Why? There someone's eye you wanna catch? _Christ_, do you need to get laid.”

“You offering?” Jin's snappy, already anticipating the rejection.

“Would it get you off my ass?”

“Metaphorically.”

* * *

_The team is dismissed after the conference, just outside the throne room. But Cassie warns everybody to stay close, don't get arrested or executed, and be back by nightfall. They're all heading back to Earthrealm first thing in the morning, after all._

_Cassie groans out that, “Kotal can strap his answer to Erron's ankle and kick him through the portal when he makes up his mind.” Then she calls for everyone to hang on a sec. There's more, and it's bad, whatever it is. She finally says, “The team's being disbanded. Officially.”_

_Cassie explains that it's happening as soon as they're back from this mission, or whatever the hell it even is. Wants everyone to know it has nothing to do with how the meeting with Kotal Kahn has turned out. It was going to happen no matter what._

_This is their swan song, and it feels like shit. _

_Part of Jin thought he'd always have the gig with SF to fall back on, even if he was only ever sort of a loaner to them. Not that he needs it. Or them. He's Shaolin, and descended from a damn proud line. Even if there's a bit of tarnish on the old family legacy. Some real stubborn rot underneath the bark on the family tree, crawled up from one shitty apple and spread outward. _Inward.

* * *

The only part Erron has any problem with Jin groping at is the gunbelt. _Nobody_ reaches for that. It's fine with Jin. Erron's clothes, his loadout—it's just got too many buckles and straps for drunk hands to work at, anyway. The less he has to fight with, the better.

Then they're past buckles and straps and shirts and pants, and Jin's well beyond knowing this is a bad idea, and doesn't really have it in him to care. He doesn't want to.

He just wants the mouth pressed against his neck to bite it again, and to be all over the hard cock pressed against his ass. Doesn't care if it hurts. He wants it to. Not like _don't prep him at all_ kind of hurt, but there has to be pain. There can't not be.

It's hot breath warming his collarbone, only to cool far too quickly, and Erron's words sort of rumble. “I'll be real gentle, Junior.”

Jin's reply is needy, but firm. “Don't want you to.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Don't call me Junior.”

“What should I call you?”

Call him— “Don't call me anything.” —_Jin_.

* * *

_Cassie's calling out to Jin, trying to get him to stop. He does, but won't do more than glance over his shoulder at his soon-to-be former teammates. In a way it sort of feels like they never were._

_She sounds sort of desperate—but not for herself—the way she insists there's still a place for him with SF if he wants. Wants what? To enlist?_

_Pass. _

_If not, then what? A feast or famine, on-call consulting gig, if they deign to throw him a bone? Sort of like Takeda's been doing almost constantly since they all stopped Shinnok and _he_ started saving for the big ass rock on Jacqui's ring finger. Like Mr. Takahashi did before him, and still does, here and there, if he decides it's worth dusting off the armor and wiping the blood off the demon sword._

_Hard pass._

_Committing to nothing is better than admitting you're the equivalent of the last kid picked for kickball._

* * *

Morning's brighter than Jin expected. He's less sore than he thought he would be. His body is, anyway. Everything else is is still sort of numb and hazy, in the few spots that haven't been filled with bitterness and resentment, and whatever was in that bottle he and Erron finished off, before finishing each other off.

The first words out of Erron's mouth when he hears Jin stirring are firm. “Don't go getting any ideas, now.” It doesn't feel like he's said everything he wants to, though.

Because they fucked? Yeah, Jin's not gonna. “I won't.”

“Could _possibly_ get work for the Kahn. _If_ you wanted it.” That's about the last thing he expected Erron to say, ranking below even 'good morning'.

Because he's not seriously suggesting that, though, is he? Of course he isn't, because it's Erron Black, immortal cowboy mercenary, and he wouldn't. But what if he is? Either way, it feels sort of like betraying Earthrealm, even if they're the ones rocking the boat and pretending to be surprised when people end up overboard.

After a too-long pause, Jin asks, “Doing what?”

“Depends on what you're good at, doesn't it?”

“Guess so.”

Erron insists, “Not _that_. Well, hell. There's definitely opportunities for it. And now that we know you can hold your own... Only, you don't really seem like the _courtesan_ type.”

Ugh. No. Kung Jin, descendant of the Great Kung Lao. Outworld gigolo.

“Last night notwithstanding,” Jin mutters.

Erron laughs. “Well, you got a portal to hop, don't you?”

“Do I?”

_Does he?_

* * *

Kotal Kahn hasn't outright refused Earthrealm's proposal. He's definitely rejecting more than he's accepting, though. Preserving Outworld's—nee Edenia's—history is important. But he isn't going to allow it to be done at the expense of the present. The future hasn't happened yet, and he isn't going to waste breath or gamble the well-being of his people on it.

General Blade's grouchy for all of the delays, and that the Kahn is playing hardball. But really, she just wants to know if she can trust Jin. To deliver word back to him. It isn't lost on Jin, the pregnant pause in her words.

He reminds her she trusts Kotal Kahn, right? That she and the rest of Earthrealm want to make peace. Unless they were just making demands in its name and are playing offended now that it's turned out their smokescreen wasn't thick enough to fool the primitives.

Cassie's still weirded out that the news from Outworld came from Jin, and in anything resembling an official capacity. He feels a twinge of something like guilt. If there was ever friendship between them, it's taken a knock.

She tries to catch Jin again, before he hops the portal back to Outworld, to insist there's still a place for him. With SF. In Earthrealm.

Jin reminds her he was there in the conference room when the terms were read. He knows his place.

* * *

Erron's eyes flash, just so, as he asks, “So, what'd the General say?”

“What could she say? Can't really _refuse_ Kotal Kahn's _refusal_ unless she wants to risk pissing him off,” Jin replies, with a lazy shrug.

“The more things change.”

“Something like that,” Jin agrees. He adds, “Wants to officially appoint a liaison or two. For this sort of thing. Someone both parties agree to. Someone neutral.”

“A carrier pigeon.”

“_Something like that.”_

“She have anybody in mind?” Erron asks, even though he already knows.

Jin offers another shrug, only it's ridged, and feels forced this time. He means to say it without saying it, and does, even if he hasn't done it smoothly.

Erron lets out a bark of laughter. “With your big mouth?”

Like _he's_ one to talk.

“And impulsive, shit attitude?” Erron continues, like he's actually amused.

Pot and kettle, alright.

Erron dials it down to his typical unaffected look and tone, and asks, “You pick up anything else while you were there?”

Jin stops, unsure if he wants to say it or not. Eventually offers a hushed, “Wickett.”

“What the hell's a Wickett?”

“It's called Wickett now.” Jin explains. He honestly wasn't planning to say anything about it. It was sort of just something he was going to _know_ about Erron and never let him know _he_ knew. _For no reason. At all._ But something inside him suddenly feels dirty hoarding it, so he spills, “Where you're from. That's what it's called now.”

“Okay then.” Erron takes the briefest moment to process the information. “You hoping to get something out of that?”

“Out of you, you mean?” Yeah, Jin knows better than that.

“Then maybe you're looking to have something on me?” Erron guesses.

It feels like such an obvious thing to point out, but here Jin's doing it. “Can't exactly cash in on 150 year old bounties. At least not in Earthrealm.”

Erron laughs, and it seems like he means it, too. “So, how much am I worth, dead or alive?”

“In today's money—Earthrealm money?”

“Sure.”

“With interest and inflation, about $8000.”

“Is that all?” Erron's offended.

“It was only a $500 bounty. Besides, you're worth way more for being connected to the Black Dragon than putting a slug into your old man, _pre_-American Civil War.”

“Touche,” Erron admits, and it's not lost on Jin that he looks impressed, rather than worried, over the implication that he could be turned in. He goes back to looking serious real quick, though, “Why'd you really dig all that up? If you got no plans to make money off of it.”

“I wanted to know.” It's the truth. Sad, and stupid, and embarrassing as it may be.

Erron just looks annoyed. “You spend way too damn much time trying to learn about shit you can't change, you know that?”

He's right, but is he talking about the past, or himself?

Jin sort of scoffs, “Got nothing better to do.”

“Thought you just got a fancy new job, Carrier Pigeon? But if you're looking for a way to pass the time—”

Jin knows what Erron's hinting at. He has no idea how much or how little it means to him, them hooking up, and not knowing bothers him. Just enough.

Because, Jin knows as well as anyone, and better than most: it's not an alliance, it's a non-aggression pact. 

**Author's Note:**

> I got nothing. Just a weird determination to fill out this profile with something other than self-indulgent niche kink shit. Oh, I'm still gonna write that, too. But not just that?  
Oh, and Jin drinks, or fell off the wagon for the duration of this fic. But hey, he ain't practicing celibacy here, either.


End file.
